


Accentuate The Positive

by JoJo



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Early Work, Earthquakes, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:38:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/pseuds/JoJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dobey's away, they're hungover and working with a guy they can't stand... but when disaster strikes deep underground and there are lives in the balance, someone's got to pull the situation out of the soup...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Accentuate The Positive

**Author's Note:**

> NB this was a story started before the 7/7 London Underground bombings in 2005, posted to BCL in October that year - on the BCL I posted a warning about subway system disasters and that still applies. And oh dear it is sadly un-beta'd and full of Britishisms, which is partly why I've tagged it AU.
> 
> NNB The Bay City subway system is its own alternate universe and not based on any particular transit system, but perhaps on several :)

Arriving in the squadroom on New Year's Day, after a flight from New York and the party to end all parties, two hours sleep buzzing in his ears, Starsky could not believe his foolishness at having put himself on the roster. Or his bad luck. Only Bavin was there. 

Detective Jack Bavin, who was looking for a partner and thought that it should be Hutch... Jack Bavin, who held the unshakeable opinion, voiced often and with conviction, that David Starsky should be medically retired... Jack Bavin -- as brash as he was insecure, and given to badmouthing Starsky in front of his partner to the accompaniment of the rest of the squadroom giving a collective "Doh!"... Starsky's heart sank. Hutch was letting him down big-time. 

Bavin looked up on Starsky's entrance and smiled, a big, doggy smile that said _here is a bone._ He looked annoyingly fresh and was up to his elbows in paperwork. 

"Jack," Starsky said with a weak smile, and headed for the coffee jug. 

"I just made that," Bavin said, leaving his desk and wandering over to hang about next to him. 

"Good. Thanks." 

"So, we didn't get the chance to catch up last night -- you had a good holiday?" 

"Yup, yup." 

"What, your Mom, your brother? The full works?" 

"Oh, pretty low-key, you know. My brother was working. My Mom had a few friends over. Just... quiet." 

"Did you a power of good, huh?" 

Starsky turned from the coffee jug with his cup, and swigged it, ignoring the heat, just so he would not answer too precipitately. "I was fine before," he said eventually. "Really, Jack. I'm kinda overwhelmed that you're so concerned, but there's no need." 

"Hey man," Bavin said. "I hear you. It's not been long, though, you know what I mean?" 

"What's not been long?" asked Starsky patiently. 

"Since it happened, you know..." 

"Jack, would you give it a rest? This is harassment. It's workplace bullying," said Starsky. 

"What? I'm only saying... hey, and Davey, don't try and pull any of your union bullshit with me because I don't buy it." 

"What don't you buy?" came a new voice, smooth and friendly. Hutch had seen the brewing storm as he came past the squadroom windows and he could not get in the door quick enough. Bavin looked over at him. He seemed cheerful all of a sudden. 

"Davey here is just trying his union rep yakkety yak with me," he said. "But... what the hell. A new year. Maybe a new union rep?" 

"Oh we'll vote on it," Hutch said, raising a brow at his partner before heading for the coffee jug. "The nominations will be out soon. And yeah, who knows, huh? Morning, Starsk." 

"Good morning," said Starsky, who was chewing the inside of one cheek. 

"But, you know, I reckon we should wait until the process pans out. Doesn't seem like a good idea to discuss it after two hours sleep on January 1st. Jack?" 

"Well I was just saying," Bavin said. 

"OK then." 

Bavin shrugged, gave Starsky a toothy smile and went back to his reports. He was well satisfied and Hutch felt rattled. It was not going to be good for anybody if Bavin was embarking on a sustained campaign to goad Starsky. Especially with Dobey away... but then again, that was why he was cranking things up now. Deputy McMichaels thought the sun and moon shone out of his ass. 

Starsky sat down with his back to Bavin's corner and made a dramatically pained face. 

"Listen, buddy," Hutch said quietly, "no matter how rough you feel today, for God's sake don't go home sick." 

"And give that cement-head the satisfaction?" Starsky muttered back. "No way." 

"Are we going to get out on the witness trail for the Hogan-Cameron trial?" Hutch said, "or are we just going to sit here quietly and file some reports?" 

Starsky looked at him like he was crazy. "The witnesses will all be in bed," he said. "Let's leave 'em there." 

"Well... non-moving targets..." 

"So we'll get on their case real early tomorrow morning. Come on, Hutch, give us a break will you? Happy New Year's and all. I know Hogan-Cameron is the only live we've got, but we can leave it asleep for one more day. Huh? I want to do my reports -- I love my reports." 

Hutch laughed. "You win," he said, and then held his head. "Man, why am I here?" 

"I'll get on to Hogan-Cameron for you," Jack Bavin interrupted, suddenly at Starsky's shoulder once more. "I don't have much paperwork left -- give me the brief and I'll go out. Or we could do it as a team, Hutch, if Davey wants to take it easy." 

"You are something else," Starsky said. 

"What?" 

Hutch shook his head at Starsky. "It's OK, Jack," he said. "Good of you to offer, but we actually do have quite a bit of stuff to do here. If there's a call-out, we'll bear you in mind. There's quite a few uniforms on roster who'd like to roll." 

Again Bavin laughed. "OK," he said, "Just thought I'd ask." He sidled off again, greeting Detective Malik who had just walked in. Malik was teetotal. He grinned at all three of them. 

"Happy New Year, guys." 

"Hey, Al," said Starsky, very grateful for a new and neutral face. 

"Say, someone just told me downstairs that Amanda Shawcross got her claws into someone from Metro at the party last night... who was that? Do you guys know?" 

Hutch turned his roundest, babiest-blue eyes on him. "Search me," he said. 

"Are you sure?" Starsky said humorously. "Did they say it was really a guy from here? I mean, well... we saw her there last night, sure, but..." 

"Really," Malik said earnestly. 

"I just don't know," Starsky said, screwing up his brow as if trying to think who it could be. 

"Well you know maybe it isn't true," Hutch then said. "What exactly are they saying down there?" 

"Ah, usual stuff," Malik admitted. "I don't know how they would know really. It just seemed like a good bit of gossip." He grinned again. 

"Well if we're into gossip about last night," Bavin said, "How about Davey and a mysterious foreigner?" 

"Oh yeah?" Malik said with interest, turning to Starsky with his brows raised. 

"Thanks, Jack," said Starsky pleasantly. He wagged a finger at Malik. "I don't kiss and tell," he said. 

"That's OK," Malik said. "I'm more interested in Shawcross." 

Hutch coughed elaborately and Bavin swung in at once. He knew all about Hutch and Amanda Shawcross and he wanted to prove his loyalty. "Forget last night," he said. "You on any lives today, Al?" 

"I got one or two but nothing that can't wait another day," Malik said. 

"How's Shazia?" Hutch asked. 

"Good, thankyou. Only another six weeks to go." 

"Man," said Bavin, "Is your life going to change." 

"Listen," Starsky said, "I'm going down to see Ron. Jack, if you could try not to assassinate my character while I'm gone I'd be very grateful." 

"Union business?" Bavin asked. 

"Not your business," replied Starsky and swept out of the squadroom. 

"You are so mean to him," Malik commented, finally sliding into his seat. 

"Davey can take it," Bavin said robustly. "He can take it, can't he, Hutch?" 

"Yup, sure," Hutch replied. "Be nice if he didn't have to, though." 

Bavin yawned ostentatiously, streching back over his chair. "I'm only playing," he said. 

Starsky stayed away about forty minutes and when he came back Bavin was busy with a phone call and the squadroom was a little more animated than before. Deputy McMichaels was visible in Dobey's office, also on the phone. Hutch was helping Malik out with booking a tall, thin junkie who Starsky knew he had seen countless times before. He headed for the coffee jug again and was just reaching for it when the room juddered. Fascinated, Starsky stared at the coffee vibrating in the jug and the cups banging together like they did on top of his washing-machine when it was on spin. The vibration was coming up through the floor, too, and Starsky turned slowly to see Hutch watching a file bouncing along the desk. The junkie looked like he hadn't noticed anything. Somewhere, out in the corridor, something crashed to the floor. After maybe thirty seconds, all went quiet and still again. Starsky turned back to the coffee jug. 

"Hutch," he said, "You know, you really ought to call Victor." 

"Starsk," Hutch said solemnly as his partner turned round again and came over with his coffee. "You know what, I'm going to call Victor." 

Victor was a friend of Hutch's, a musician with a sideline in amateur seismology. Every time there was a tremor, however small, Hutch liked to call him to find out what his home-made monitoring systems were saying. It was the first thing Hutch always thought of, and Starsky had seized upon his oft-used "You know, I'm going to call Victor," as if it were a catchphrase. 

A few minutes later he came off the phone and announced to the squadroom, "Victor says it was maybe a pre-shock. It didn't register high on the scale. There might be more." 

"Victor says it was a pre-shock," repeated Starsky, making an "I'm impressed" face. 

"Well, Starsk, Victor is usually right," Hutch said, refusing to rise to him. 

"Hutch, Victor has been predicting the big one for years." 

"Hey, he got the last one on the button, buddy. Pre-shocks, aftershocks and all. And he's not the only one. We all know that sooner or later your horrible car is going to disappear into a crater where it belongs." 

"OK everybody," Deputy McMichaels said, poking his head out of the door of Dobey's office. "Is there any work being done around here today? What's the Hogan-Cameron situation? Hutchinson?" 

Hutch sat up straight. "Oh, I, uh... well, it's like this... we, uh..." 

"We're finishing up the reports on the arrest of Marlon Keane, Deputy McMichaels, sir," Starsky said coolly. "We planned to start on the witness trail for Hogan-Cameron tomorrow. Sir." 

"Nothing live today?" 

"Not so far," Hutch said. 

McMichael grunted. He did not believe in letting officers get on with things. He liked to have a good idea of exactly who was doing what and when. The door of his office closed meaningfully. 

"Dobey's back Tuesday," Hutch said. 

"Hallelujah," said Starsky. "Don't you think, Jack?" He smiled across at Bavin. 

"It's all about arrest ratios, fellers," Bavin said. "And McMichaels gets higher ones than Dobey." 

"Yeah well there's more to being a cop than filling up prisons," Starsky said, "like... hell, I never can remember what." Hutch snickered. Bavin shook his head. 

"If you can't hack it, Davey," he said, "Well, you could always--" 

"What? Retire myself?" 

"Oh come on, guys," Malik interrupted. "Will you give it a rest? I thought you were all hungover and needed to take it easy." 

"I feel fine," Bavin said, "but...", and cocked his head towards Starsky. 

"Yeah so I look rough," Starsky said with a growl, "I flew back from New York yesterday." 

Bavin held up his hands. "You said it, man." 

Hutch got up and moved across the room toward Bavin. "OK, Jack. Leave it now will you." He locked eyes with him. Bavin seemed to consider for a bit, and then he shrugged, not quite able to find his predatory smile this time. His phone went and he turned away to take the call. 

"Perhaps we shoulda gone out," Starsky muttered when Hutch regained his seat. 

"We still could." 

"You wanna?" 

"You?" 

Hutch thought to himself and then nodded. "Yeah, fresh air. Change of scene. I'll go tell the big boss." He went over and knocked, poking his head round the door. 

"Sir, OK if Starsky and I go and roll our beat?" 

"Yes, Hutchinson, that's OK. It would be nice to see you two doing something constructive." 

"OK then, sir." 

Starsky already had his jacket on and was holding the door open for his partner, as he always did. 

"Off for a stroll?" said Malik. 

"Going out to help fill those prisons," Starsky replied. "We'll see all you twisted layabouts later." 

* * *

It was Sunday-quiet out on the street. Although his head was pounding from lack of sleep and alcohol Starsky felt a lot more relaxed behind the wheel of the Torino, with Hutch sat next to him, arm stretched across the back of the seat. A companionable silence reigned as they wended their way around the streets surrounding Matiz Boulevard, heading in a leisurely fashion for Downtown. 

They had been up and down a few times, checked in with some local characters, stopped for a coffee with Huggy, responded to reports of a disturbance in a Mall near the football stadium and were coming back down the 110 intent on clocking off at 5.30, when the radio crackled. 

_"All units... All units in the vicinity of City Station Plaza... back-up requested by Zebra 11."_

"Oh boy," said Starsky. "If I hang a right we can make it in five." 

Wearily Hutch picked up the handset. "This is Zebra Three responding. What we headed to?" 

Crackle, crackle. _"I'll patch you through to Zebra-11, Hutch. That is Hutch, right? Not Starsky?"_

Hutch gave a low laugh. "It's Hutch," he said. "Who's that?" 

_"Dina. We haven't met."_

"OK, Dina. Happy New Year." 

_"Thank you. Here comes Zebra-11."_

Starsky was hanging his right when Jack Bavin's voice came over the radio. _"Hutch?"_

"Jack, what's going down?" 

_"Listen, guys, I'm sitting here in a bar on the Plaza. I got... you wait for this... I got Lewis Farrado and John Curtis sitting in a place right over the street. You dig? They've been there half an hour. They got a few heavies with them... How long we been waiting for Farrado to reappear?"_

Hutch whistled. "Since last New Year's Day?" he said. 

_"Yeah, at least. Could do with your help. I'm solo."_

"OK, Jack. We're five minutes away. We'll join you." 

_"Great, guys. I'm in the Tower Diner."_

Starsky sucked air in through his teeth and then out again. He clapped his hands tighter on the wheel as they accelerated, adjusting himself in the seat. All gestures of tension. 

"Park up outside," Hutch advised as they turned out on to Armison Street. 

The Tower Diner overlooked the Plaza Tower over the other side of the station. Opposite it was a French restaurant with two bay windows on to the street. Starsky opened the diner door for his partner to pass through. They at once saw Jack Bavin sitting in a booth in the window. He held up his hands to them. They slid into the seat opposite, immediately squinting out the window across to the other side of Armison. 

"They're there," Bavin said. "Have been nearly forty-five minutes." 

"Yeah, I can see him," said Hutch. A suited figure was visible in the right-hand bay, glass of wine in hand. "Look like they're there for a while." 

"Lewis Farrado," Starsky said admiringly. "How did you find him?" 

Bavin shrugged. "A contact called me, said he'd just seen him turning up at the station. He and his goons were at the left luggage when I got here. I tailed them over to that place, and guess who was waiting for them." 

"Farrado's been out of action way over fifteen months," Starsky said. 

"Uh-huh, but all the warrants are still fresh." 

"Well, Jack," said Hutch, "This is your call. What do you want to do?" 

Bavin had clearly thought it all out. He was good at that. He didn't need someone to bounce things off. "OK," he said. "We need to get closer, see if we can figure what's going down over there. Now, Farrado might make me, I'm not sure. One of you guys needs to get your butt in that restaurant. Now he's back in town I don't want to lose him. I want to know where he's at. If we can take him down today, I want to do it." 

"Let's go softly, huh?" Hutch said. "Farrado won't mind shooting up the sidewalk. It's busy round here, Jack." 

"I hear you." Bavin cast a long look through the window. "Hutch, you go over there, see what's happening. When they move, we need to be right behind them." 

"Are we going for Curtis as well?" 

"If they split... Starsky takes Curtis -- OK Davey? We'll keep on Farrado, Hutch. We'll need two against three." 

Hutch looked quickly at his partner and was relieved to see he was playing professional. Not a flicker crossed his face. "Got you," Starsky said to Bavin. 

"You on RT?" Bavin said. Hutch pointed to the clip on his shoulder. "OK, take it easy, man. We don't need to pull him at the restaurant. We can see where he's off to next. They ain't got wheels. Here," he added as an afterthought "take my jacket, Hutch, it's kind of smart over there." Starsky smirked but said nothing. 

Hutch switched jackets, gave Starsky a non-verbal short speech about playing nicely with Bavin and then disappeared back out of the diner door. As he exited, the waitress appeared at their table. 

"What can I get your friend?" she said to Bavin, slightly testily. He only had a glass of iced water in front of him. 

"Coffee," Starsky said gratefully. 

"Push the boat out, why don't you?" she responded and turned on her heel. 

They watched Hutch's elegant, long-legged figure lope across Armison and up the steps of the "Le Caprice". It was almost dark by now. Starsky yawned. He could not help it. Two hours sleep was starting to kick in big time. 

Hutch had to argue to get a table that was not at the poky back end of the little restaurant, but he did not want to argue loudly enough to get noticed by the table in the bay window. As he finally slid into a seat where he could see them clearly, he figured they were staying for a while. There was an open bottle of red wine on the table, and after a while the waiter brought a second, along with what looked like hors d'oevres. Farrado and Curtis sat with their heads bowed quite close, talking animatedly. The other two, wide, barrel-chested guys whose weapons were all but taped to their chests sat on the inside, nearest the interior of the restaurant, impassive, drinking Coke. 

"Could be a long evening," Hutch whispered into the RT after a while. He was half studying the curly script of the menu that he had been brought. 

"Yeah?" came back Starsky's voice. "Time for another coffee?" 

"Get a jug," Hutch advised. "But am I going to have escargots or lobster -- that's the question \-- what do you reckon, Starsk?" 

A snort in reply. 

"OK then, steak or chicken?" 

A strangulated silence. Hutch gave a small smile. He could just hear Bavin tutting in irritation. 

Farrado -- gangland boss -- and Curtis -- a walking contacts book for the drugs trade -- sat at their table and ate a leisurely meal. The goons drank their Coke and stared around, outside the zone in which the men with the rapsheets were doing their talking. Hutch nibbled on this and that, eventually giving in to the gnawing pains of real hunger and ordering coq au vin. Starsky hissed and rumbled at him through the RT. Hutch told him to get himself a philadelphia steak sandwich and quit moaning. Darkness fell. Farrado and Curtis were not in a hurry. Perhaps there was something going down later. Certainly they were comparing notes, talking over angles, swapping information. Hutch wished he were close enough to hear. Every comment he made in the RT he had to do behind a newspaper but although he was afraid of being heard he was unable to hear them. 

The restaurant started to empty. The staff were getting a little irked with the tall blond man who ate and drank so slowly, staring at his paper and seeming ready to stay in his seat all night. At least the group in the window kept on ordering. 

"It'll go on expenses," Starsky soothed him through the airwaves. He sounded more content now that he had a hot meal inside him. "Do what you have to do, Hutch." 

Hutch sighed. "If I have anymore damn coffee I'm going to start jumping round this place like a jellybean." 

"Keep alert," Bavin's voice whispered through. He and Starsky had been talking baseball. It had been a polite and civilised conversation. Bavin was completely proper now they were up to their necks in work. Starsky grudgingly had to admit that Bavin had a good cop's brain, a good instinct and he did not usually ever come off worse in a bad situation. Unlike me, he thought bitterly. 

"I have to go see a man about a horse," Hutch said at around ten thirty. "If they move, let me know." 

"Are you two psychic or what?" he heard Bavin say. "Davey's in the john too." 

Hutch grinned to himself. When he got back to his table the dynamic in the window was changing. They were winding up to leave. Hutch waved casually for the check, poking in his back pocket for an Amex to pay with. Dobey was going to go berserk when he saw the expenses chit for this little lot. He cleared his throat. 

"Yup, we see," Bavin said to him. Hutch sat carefully in his seat, gaze averted, as the table of four got into their jackets. There did not seem to be much check-paying going on over there. This place was one to be watched. He could tell what they were doing even out of the corner of his eye. Willing the waiter to get a move on with his own check, he forced himself to sit calm. He scribbled his K.R.L. Hutchinson signature, knowing they were already halfway out the door. But he did not want to crowd them. Just give them enough time and then see what they were about next. 

Out on the street the two goons were flanking the men on their way back towards the station. Starsky and Bavin were moving slowly on the other side of the street. No separation so far. Hutch was glad about that. The last thing he wanted was for Starsky to have to split off on his own. That was not what they did, him and Gordo. 

Damnit, three times damnit. At the grand station entrance, Curtis did a little handshake move, and peeled away, taking a left towards a side street. Hutch saw Starsky coming across the street, passing him about ten metres away. 

"Seeya," he murmured. 

"Take it easy," Hutch said back but was not sure if he was heard. He fell into step rhythm with Bavin across the way. Starsky glanced back to see them all heading right into the station. They're going to catch a train, he thought. 

Farrado and his cohorts went back to the left luggage. It was closed, and they hung around for a while, Farrado making a few calls from a phone booth. Then, with a glance at the big station clock, they moved towards the stairs. 

"Where are you at, Davey?" Bavin said as he and Hutch began pattering down the near-deserted steps towards the metro D line. 

No response. 

Bavin made an impatient gesture at Hutch as if to say, what is he playing at? Hutch sucked in his annoyance. They got down on to the platform. There was no-one at the barrier, hardly anyone waiting. Farrado and his men sauntered up to the front of the platform and stood there, waiting. 

"Starsky," Bavin grumbled into the RT, "will you copy me?" 

"What?" came back a breathless, irritated voice. 

"Listen, we're on the D. Looks like they're taking a train to the Valley." 

"Yeah, well Curtis just hailed a cab. He... ouff... he's outa here. What you want me to do? Stay with him? Follow that cab?" 

"No, you get back here." 

"Got you." 

"I hate the D," Hutch said as the RT spluttered into silence. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, can't stand being under the ground." 

"Where the hell is he going?" Bavin wondered out loud. 

"Well it better be somewhere interesting. We could have arrested him back there, you know. You said the warrants were fresh. Why all this?" 

"He's up to something," Bavin said. "He's got something doing down. Maybe we can turn it over. First bust of the new year -- McMichaels will love it. You and me, Hutch." They both heard the distant sound of the metro train trundling towards them out of the dark. Come on, Starsk, thought Hutch, move your ass. 

The train pulled lazily into the transit station. There were eight carriages. The few people on the platform moved forward. Farrado and his posse stepped into the third carriage. Hutch and Bavin shimmied a little to get into the fourth. As they stepped inside, Hutch cast a look back and saw, to his relief, his partner racing down the steps at a lick and managing to throw himself between the closing doors of the back carriage. 

"Starsky's on board," he reported to Bavin, not missing the face the other cop made. 

They sat down away from each other but from where both could see through the window into the carriage in front of them. Farrado was seen to wipe something off one of the seats and then sit in it. His goons flanked him, leaning in close. He seemed to be telling them something. Hutch felt Bavin bristling next to him as they both became aware that the goons were walking up towards their carriage. Hutch crossed his arms over his stomach and sagged down in his seat, shutting his eyes in an instananeous impression of a drunk who was half asleep. Bavin touched the RT swiftly. "Davey?" he whispered. 

"Hear ya." 

"Farrado's guys are heading our way. Think maybe they're checking out the train." 

"OK. What you want me to do?" 

"Sit tight. Let us know where they go. Don't let them disappear." 

"Got it." 

Bavin leaned his head sideways on to the window and cupped his chin in one hand, resting the elbow on his other arm. He slid down in the seat, covering as much of his face as he could as the connecting door was heaved open and the two men stomped in. They walked the length of the carriage, glancing just casually at the occupants which consisted of Hutch, Bavin and two other people, a young man with a headset and tattoos and a middle-aged woman with three very full white bags. Hutch and Bavin heard the connecting door bang open and then closed again. Hutch risked a peek. Only one of the goons had gone in, the other was still standing in the carriage, leaning casually on the door, looking back up towards Farrado. His eyes flicked almost imperceptibly over the occupants -- he saw the tattooed youth, the lady with the bags, a blond drunk out of it and another man about whom there was something that disturbed him. Bavin did not notice the look. The goon began to wander back towards Farrado's carriage, bumping into Hutch's legs as he came past. The train was swaying into the next station. Hutch stayed inert, but aware of the presence of the very tall, very wide man just by his feet. He heard the doors open, the sound of footsteps walking away from the train from further down the platform, and then the doors sliding shut again. The big man was still by him. Hutch felt like he was being examined. The train lurched off, and Hutch's heart plummeted. He really, really did hate being underground. When he felt the man's presence leave the near vicinity he risked popping open his eyes, but only as a drunk man might when a metro train trundled round a corner. He saw the back of the goon, and he saw Louis Farrado opening the door and coming in. Something was wrong. Hutch snapped his slitted eyes to Bavin, who was sitting up straight in his seat. Hutch's thought was, they've made him. 

Back one, Starsky had made it into the same carriage as the second Farrado heavy, who was also standing still, looking a little hunted, one hand hovering near his jacket. Casual, Starsky moved up the centre aisle, smiling flirtatiously at a pretty, cross-faced young woman nearby. She was sitting opposite a pair of black guys -- one had a big silver case, the other was hanging on to a double bass in a brown cover. They grinned at him. He grinned back and went a few more paces. The goon turned round to look hard in his direction. Starsky did what he often did in inappropriate circumstances -- he smiled his massive smile. He never saw any reaction. 

The train began to judder. In his carriage Hutch screwed up his face. _Good God, they really should stabilize these damn thi..._ There was a massive lurch to the right, making Hutch slam against the seat arm and then the window. Then it came to the left, and then right again. Hutch lost his seat. He saw Bavin falling through the air. Then the screeching started, the sound of metal tearing, followed by deep rumbling that seemed to come up through the floor. All the lights in the train went out. It continued to surge from one side to the other, still going at the same speed, and then the jolt came. Hutch's feet left the floor and he hurtled towards a partition in the pitch dark, meeting it with his head. He saw stars, heard crashing, felt huge vibrations shaking the whole train, smelt burning metal and choking dust, and then he was out. 

Starsky remained conscious. Indeed, he felt incredibly clear-headed. The first judders sent him stumbling but he managed to keep his feet. Then a large torque lifted him and threw him to one side. He felt his ribs wrap around a seat, the air whooshing out of his surprised lungs. In the sudden blackness glass was tinkling all around. Someone was screaming, or was it the sound of the train coming apart? Something dropped on his head but not hard enough to stun him. He rolled to the floor, feeling the vibrations coming in waves, listening to the muffled crumbling sounds outside of the train window. His arms went over his head instinctively even while he thought to himself, _yeah well that ain't gonna help you if the roof's coming in._

* * *

_Hello?_

Hutch greeted himself as he came slowly awake. _Hello, Kenny, what was that? You all here?_ He opened his eyes on the dark, with the feeling of enclosure very strong and a sudden wave of utter panic hit him. He felt the air go out of him, his limbs went numb, he could feel his heart pounding breathlessly against the floor of the train. Even in his head he was stuttering. _Guh... jeez... d-d-don't do this t-to me... I hate being underg-g-ground..._ He took in some stiff, shallow breaths. For a bit it didn't help. Then, out of nowhere, he imagined Starsky -- _you know, Hutch, you really ought to call Victor_ \-- and suddenly it was all a bit easier. He lifted his head to see if the darkness was penetrable, and realised there was blood trickling down the side of his face. He got a hand to it. Then he dropped the hand to his RT and pressed it. "Starsk, you hear me?" The RT crackled unresponsively. "Jack? You OK?" he called out into the dark. A long, low groan came from nearby, and another snuffling sound. Hutch sat right up. "Jack?" 

"Yuh..." 

"You hurt?" 

"Some. My arm." Sound of painful shuffling. "Broken. Jesus it's dark in here. Hutch!" 

"Yes, Jacky?" 

"The roof just caved in behind me, I'm sure of it." 

"Which way?" said Hutch, a stab of fear grabbing at his gut. He could not work out his orientation at all just yet. 

"Dunno. Dunno, Hutch." Bavin huffed a little. "Sorry, dunno." He knew what Hutch was thinking. 

"Anyone else here?" Hutch said into the dark. He reached out his hands, and at that moment a soft thrumming sound signalled the return of light. It was a dull, greenish light, dim and feeble. 

"Emergency lighting," said a voice, and Hutch realised he was sitting right next to the young man with tattoos, who had his knees up under his chin. He smiled nervously. 

"Hey," Hutch said, "You OK?" 

"Think so. Lady back here isn't though." 

Hutch glanced behind him and saw the lady with bags crumpled on the floor of the train, her arms and head covered in blood. He tried to push himself up but was overcome by dizziness that swept him back down again. Blood pumped in his ears. Then the fog cleared a little and he heard Bavin, sounding faint, say, "Sheesh -- wouldn't you know it -- Farrado made it." 

Hutch blinked lazily, trying to make sense. Farrado, sitting too, was just a vague shadow, but as his vision improved once more Hutch could see he had a very pale, ordinary face all of a sudden. His nice suit was covered in dust, and his cheek was cut. He stared at Hutch, then Bavin, suspicious, not sure. "My... my colleague is dead," he said. Right at the front of the carriage, half covered in debris, one of his goons. 

"You sure?" Bavin croaked. 

"I'm sure. He has a piece of metal stuck through the middle of him," Farrado said coolly. 

Hutch leaned his head back, swimming once again. _Damnit._ "Jack," he said through closed eyes, "how's it looking out back?" 

"Not sure, Hutch. I can't shift round to get a look. This arm..." 

"OK, Jacky, don't sweat it. Stay still. I'll be OK in a minute, just took a smack on the head, bit d-d-dizzy." 

There was a few seconds uneasy silence, broken only by the sounds of Bavin groaning under his breath. Hutch opened his eyes and risked sitting up straight again. He put his hand back to the wound on his head. It had stopped dripping and the left side of his face was stiff with the dried blood. He touched the RT again. "You reading me, Starsk? Starsky, do you hear me?... _God damnit, Starsky!_ " 

"I hear ya, Blintz, keep your hair on." Hutch frowned, looking down at the RT. The voice was not coming from there. 

"I don't believe it," Bavin said, a lot stronger than before. "How'd you do that, Davey?" 

There was a metallic banging sound, then a rattling. Hutch got himself on to one knee, leaning against the young man. Now he could see down the end of the carriage, and his partner's head poking through the connecting door. Nothing was aligned. He was higher than them, somehow, and the gap was only just big enough, hence the rattling and heaving sound. Hutch registered at once that Starsky looked a good colour, he looked unhurt. He felt the young man trying to assist him to his feet. 

"Thanks," he said, as he rose. "I'm Hutch. How you doing?" 

"Good," said the young man. He had an Australian accent. "Just a bit shaky. M'name's Corey." Hutch pressed his shoulder as he got upright. Starsky was looking right down the carriage at him, taking in the blood, the wobbly stance, the ashen face. 

"S'OK, Hutch, I'm coming to you. You stay there. Hold on a second." The dark curly head disappeared. Hutch stumbled across to Bavin. 

"Tell me, Jack, how bad is it? You look like hell." 

Bavin made a face. "I got bone out," he said. Hutch crouched down to look. Sure enough, there was a sliver of white sticking out of Bavin's left arm, just below the elbow. The whole limb was hanging at a weird angle and there was deep pain just starting to etch itself over the Detective's face. At least the blood loss did not look too bad. It seemed to have clotted up already. Hutch turned back again at the sound of a new voice. 

"Oh my God, oh my God... oh my..." He scooted back up past Corey to where the woman was now trying to move herself from the floor. 

"OK, lady, take it easy," he said. "Don't try to get up yet, let's have a look at you first." 

"Wha-?" she said querulously. "I don't--" 

"Think we had a bit of big one," Hutch said. "Train came off the rails. It's OK. You made it." 

"You a doctor?" she said. 

"Nope. I'm a cop," Hutch said, and turned as he said it to look straight at Farrado. Utter disgust wrote itself across the man's face. "Any pain anywhere?" 

"I hurt all over," the woman said bad-temperedly, "but I don't feel like I'm damaged. Help me up, willya?" Hutch got her turned over. She was covered in cuts and abrasions from flying glass at the other end of the carriage. Looking up that way Hutch suppressed a shudder. Half the tunnel seemed to have come down, and the carriage that had been ahead of them was gone. He helped the lady into a seat. 

"Thanks," she said feebly, risking a little look around. "Oh my..." 

"Yeah," agreed Hutch. 

"I'm Doris," she said. 

"Hutch," Hutch said. "Detective Hutchinson." 

"Thank God you're here," she told him, and somehow his heart sank. He shifted over to Louis Farrado. 

"You hurt?" 

There was a large abrasion on his cheek and he looked pale and sweaty. The eyes that slitted themselves up at Hutch were full of dislike. Silently Hutch patted his own holster under the borrowed jacket he was still wearing, and then held out his hand. Farrado just looked at him for the longest time, weighing things up. 

"It's no use to you in here, scumbag," Hutch said quietly, his hand still resting lightly under his arm. 

Farrado moved slowly to bring out his gun, a heavy-barrelled magnum. It seemed to pain him severely to put it into the cop's outstretched palm. Both of them were breathing quite heavily and it occurred to Hutch that the air in here was limited. He stuck Farrado's piece in his waistband and eased himself up again. 

At the other end, a young black man was squeezing himself through the gap. Corey had got up to go and help. The newcomer was clearly arguing with someone behind him, which Hutch assumed was his partner. 

"I'm not leavin it behind... just pass it to me will you?" he was saying angrily, "don't push me, man! Just bring me the goddamn thing!" 

As he came through, he turned and poked his head back through the hole, and then his right arm. There was a lot of huffing and cursing and finally he pulled through a large silver case. Corey helped him away from the door and he sat heavily down in a seat, pulling the case on to his knees, still cursing under his breath. He, too, seemed unhurt, but very cross. Another man was coming through now, tall and grim-faced. Farrado's other henchman. Then, finally, Starsky appeared again. He climbed into their carriage, right behind Farrado's man, and gave him a light push in the small of the back. 

"Go sit down somewhere and keep quiet," he said. "You ain't helping." Clearly there had already been an exchange. Starsky saw him into a seat and then looked up and took in the scene again, swiftly making a mental note of Bavin's state, how the others looked, and more importantly, how Hutch was. 

"Hutch?" 

"Yah, OK," Hutch said. "You?" 

"I'm fine. Fell over but got back up again. Is this it?" He cast his eyes down the far end where Farrado's other man was lying under the metal. There was a similar look to the back of the carriage he had been in. "There's two dead back there." 

Starsky said nothing more for the moment but came up and took Hutch under the elbow. "Sit right down before you fall," he said. His face was tense, concentrated. Hutch knew at once what he was doing. Taking control. And a huge sense of relief washed over him. Leadership was not always Starsky's strong point, but he had seen at once that down here, in this mess, he was the one who had to do it. "I'm Dave Starsky," he said, looking round. "This is Boz," and he motioned to the black musician. "And Mr Kerry," to Farrado's man. 

"Doris," Hutch said, pointing. "Corey. Mr Farrado. Detective Jack Bavin." 

"Are you a policeman too?" Doris asked Starsky hopefully. 

"Yes ma'am. I don't normally do train wrecks, but maybe I can think of something." 

"What happened?" Corey said. "That was an earthquake, right? Like earlier? Seemed big. Are we trapped down here?" 

"Well the tunnel is down behind us," Starsky said. "The carriage following ours is gone. And looks like the one ahead too. Seems like we got lucky in here. And lights as well." He smiled around. "Could be worse." 

"I thought this system was built to withstand this kind of thing," Farrado grumbled. "How come the tunnel's collapsed. It's not supposed to." 

"I think they reinforced it to withstand up to 7.5," Corey offered a little nervously. "So this was bigger." 

"You don't say." 

"Jack's arm is bad," Hutch said, beginning to get up and grimacing when Starsky's hand shot out and pressed into his chest, pushing him back into the seat. "And Doris is a bit bruised... OK, OK... I'll sit here. I just got a wallop on the head, that's all, don't... OK. OK!" 

"Anyone else injured?" Starsky asked, looking round. Farrado looked pale and clammy still. Everyone had been cut somewhere by flying glass. It seemed only Starsky and Boz were un-touched. "First things first," Starsky said. "We got any water? And we got any communication?" 

The RT's were dead. Doris indicated that she had a bottle of water in one of her bags. Starsky made everyone sit down. He got the water and passed it around. Then he borrowed a sweater from Corey and made Bavin a sling. 

"You're not bad at this, Davey," Bavin croaked. 

"At what? Underground first aid?" 

"Yeah, something like that. Thanks. It hurts like shit though." 

"I can see that, Jack. Maybe someone has some aspirin or something?" and he patted his jeans pocket and fished out a roll of co-praxamol. "You allergic...? Oh to hell with it, you need to get it down you." There were six pills. Two for Bavin. "Doris? It may help." Two for Doris. "Hutch?" 

"Nah, save them." 

"I'll have them," Farrado said. 

"We're saving them," Starsky snapped back. A frisson of shock went through the group. Starsky rode through it and Hutch was proud of him. He elicited Corey's help and they went round to examine everyone's cuts, cleaning what they could. Everyone sat quiet. Hutch was last. A big bang on the head. Swelling up, but not bleeding anymore. 

"Tell me, buddy," Starsky said, crouching down in front of him. "You see more than one of me?" 

"Now that's scary," said Hutch. 

"Tell me," Starsky repeated. He had a real no-nonsense voice on him. 

"I have a huge goddamn headache," Hutch said, "But I'm OK unless I get up." 

"So don't get up," Starsky said curtly. When he stood up and turned around he realised that every person in the carriage was looking at him. His stomach dropped into his shoes and he took a sudden deep breath. It hurt him. For the first time he suddenly felt the impact of crashing into the seat. A dull pain was threading through his ribs, slithering along the site of his scars. He felt the catch in his respiration, the harshness of the air down here. Quickly he looked around. 

"Can we try to get this door open, Corey? You think?" 

"We can try," the young Australian said obligingly. Starsky was glad to have his help, knowing now that he was not the strong, uninjured one. But he had stepped up to the mark, it was too late to back down now. They were looking to him. The door was jammed shut, nothing would move it. Up in the roof was a handle. Emergency exit. He stood on a seat to try it and it opened up, sending a stream of new air into the carriage. 

"OK," he said. "I'm going to go see what's going on out there. Don't suppose anyone's got a torch?" 

"Call yourself a cop?" said Bavin weakly. "I got one -- a little one. In my inside pocket." Starsky fished it out and pressed the switch. It came on. 

"OK then. I'm going out. Everyone stay put and stay calm. I'll be right back." 

Hutch desperately wanted to offer to come. But he knew it was hopeless. He felt weaker than ever when Starsky's blue sneakers slid out of view through the hole in the roof. They all listened to the sound of his feet overhead, moving carefully, first in one direction, then back overhead and in another. Then all became quiet. 

"If the tunnel's caved in, how are we going to get out?" Doris said out loud. 

"That's what Detective Starsky has gone to find out," Hutch said soothingly. There was potential for panic and distress in here and Bavin was not in a position to play his role. Farrado and Kerry kept throwing long looks at one another which Hutch did not quite like. _I'm backing you up, Starsk,_ he thought, _but don't take too long out there._

It took Starsky a while to get accustomed to his surroundings. Out of the carriage there was a strong smell of dust still settling. It went straight down his throat and clung on to his bronchials at once. Soon he was hacking and spitting while trying to keep his balance on the curved roof of the train. There was not enough room to stand upright, but he could move fairly easily with his head and shoulders stooped. Bavin's torch helped, but only a little. The pool of light around him showed him pieces of brick and rock on the roof and he gave a sideways, upwards glance, flinching slightly at the thought that more could come down. 

The damage was much worse behind than in front. From what had happened Starsky already knew that the girl and the other musician had not survived. He had seen what had been left of where they were sitting. Unlike Boz they had not been thrown forward. Making his way up towards the next carriage he saw that things were hardly any better here, but parts of the train roof were still visible at least. There was a large hole halfway down where part of the tunnel overhead had collapsed, caving in through the top of the train. Gingerly, Starsky picked his way across to it, aware that he was breathing hard. He got down on his knees, feeling for a handhold so he could try and peer down into the hole. There seemed nothing but concrete, brick and metal in mounds below him. Tattered clothing, or was it seats? Some blood. Leaning as far down as he could without sliding in Starsky called out in a raspy voice, "Can anyone hear me? There anyone here?... Hello?" Then he hung over the space, not breathing at all, his ears straining for some response. He called again and listened. There was nothing, no movement. Damnit. He had been hoping for some life. He had believed it when he saw the hole. 

Raising cautiously up to his stoop again, Starsky shone the little torch forward along the roof. There was debris as far as he could see, massive chunks of tunnel and train. For a second the enormity hit him and he felt paralyzed, and then he began to peer upwards again. There was a slight breath of something ruffling his hair, just a little break in the foetid atmosphere. He waved the torch around hopefully. Above, to his left was a round hole and the glint of aluminium. Starsky moved his feet carefully until he was as near to it as he could get without falling down the side of the train. The metal glinting was the bottom rung of a ladder. It was a service chute -- or something. Anyway, it went up, it went out of here and there was air coming down. Would the rescue services come down it? He banged on the metal a few times and called out. Above, as below, was an eerie, unpleasant silence. Hell, maybe they wouldn't know there was train here. The grid would have gone out when the quake struck. If it was as bad as it seemed, God knew what it was like up there. There could be a building on top of the station. Anything. 

Turning carefully, Starsky began back along the roof, surprised when he realised how far he had come, picking his way back. Corey was looking through the roof vent as he worked his way along. 

"Hey," he said, his voice a little dry and nervous, "we were worried about you." 

Starsky smiled to himself. He clamped the torch between his teeth and winched himself back down into the carriage, landing on the floor as gently as he could to keep his ribs calm. By now he knew that something was cracked or worse and he knew it would not do him any good. Already his chest was tight. The group in the carriage had all moved into the middle and were sitting together, some of them, including Hutch, on the floor. Starsky took a quick look around their faces. 

"Well I got good news and bad news," he said, tucking the torch into his back pocket and realising he had no inhalers. 

"Cut the crap, Davey," Bavin said. He was lying on several seats, his head propped on the jacket that he had leant Hutch for the restaurant. The sling was in place, there was a little more colour in his face, but something about his colleague's deameanour clearly irritated him. 

"I'm doing my best, Jack," Starsky said, and there was irritation in his voice now, too. "Will you get off my back?" 

"OK, you two," Hutch cut in, weary. "Not here. Not now." 

"Oh, so you partners are a little cranky are you?" Louis Farrado said. Corey, Boz and Doris gazed at the cops and then at the man who had just spoken, worried, intrigued. 

" _This_ is my partner," Starsky said, going down into his crouch by Hutch, and passing a hand down the side of his face carefully, staring into his eyes and finding them focused, glinting blue. "How you doing, partner?" 

Hutch swallowed and nodded. He felt sick. 

"Doris, you hanging in there?" Starsky went on. 

"I'm alright," she said. "But I wanna know what you found." 

"Yeah, give us that bad news," Hutch said. 

"Well the tunnel's completely caved in, in front and behind. No way we're getting along it in either direction. I didn't come across anyone else alive. Damage is pretty massive." He let this sink in. 

"And the good news?" Corey ventured. 

Starsky grinned at him. "I found another way out." 

"Yeah?" 

"Uh-huh. A service chute, with a ladder." 

Hutch looked around. "We can get up it, you reckon?" 

Starsky shook his head. "Nope, uh-uh, we ain't going in convoy. It's narrow, it's sheer, it's dark, and we got broken limbs. I ain't having any of yous falling down it." 

"So, what, wiseguy?" Farrado demanded. He had his knees drawn up, his gold-ringed hands wrapped around them. Kerry was now posted by his side. 

"I'm going to go up," said Starsky. "And get some help. And you are all going to sit tight down here and be kind to each other." 

He glanced at the bottle of water. It was only a quarter full now. 

"So how long do you think it's gonna be?" Doris asked, sounding more than a little querulous. 

"Sweetheart, I'm going to be as quick as I can. The rescue people need to pinpoint us and I can help them do that." 

"You coming back, kemosabe?" Boz asked. 

"What, you think I'm going topside and then just go home?" Starsky said. Boz looked sheepish. 

"Where is this chute?" Farrado demanded. 

"Planning on making a run for it?" Hutch asked him. "There's only one torch, Farrado. And you won't have it." 

"There's no light out there," Starsky confirmed. "Hope your batteries hold out, Jacky." He gave Farrado a wide smile, and then shook his head. "Don't think so, Louis," he said. "You don't look like much of a climber to me. You know how far down we are here? Deepest tunnel in the system. And I don't know if it goes all the way up." 

They all fell quiet again and Starsky shifted back down next to Hutch. "Think you can hold it together down here, buddy?" 

"I'm good, Starsk. You just be careful. We need you." 

"Hum," Starsky said. He put a tentative hand under his ribs and then cursed his carelessness as Hutch immediately honed in on the movement. 

"What, you hurt?" 

"Nah, it's just the dust out there. I've filled up with it." Starsky coughed generously to show the truth of his statement. 

"You got your inhaler, right?" 

"Yeah, in my desk." 

"Starsky..." 

"I know, I know. Late night parties, it'll do it every time. And how about you, Mom? You got your panic pills?" 

Hutch made a face. "Yeah, in the car." 

They looked at each other. "You handling it?" Starsky asked. He knew Hutch had a serious aversion to tunnels. His claustrophobia was well-documented. 

"Hey," Hutch said, "We got lights. I'm fine. Just don't want to be down here too long is all." He smiled a feeble smile and Starsky patted him affectionately on the leg. 

"Here, you keep these," he said and brought out the co-praxamol. 

"OK. Starsk, you had any water?" 

"No I'm OK." 

"Starsky, you're full up with dust, you told me. Take a drink. You'll need it." 

Starsky conceded. He picked up the precious bottle and took a swig, watching Farrado and Kerry as it went down. When he finished he wiped the rim, replaced the lid and then handed it to Hutch. 

"Detective Hutchinson here is in charge of water," he said. "And everything else. Now, you all gotta sit down and try not to move or talk too much. There's new air coming in the roof, but it's not a great blend. You need to preserve what you got. So, no crying. No arguing. No singing." He grinned. "Hutch here may tell you a few jokes. I'll be back with help in no time." There was uncertainty and fear in the air so he dug up his chirpiest voice. "Hey, cheer up. It could be worse. Anyway, you should see me on the climbing wall at the playground, I leave those four year-olds standing." 

He could feel every pair of eyes on him as he got himself back up into the escape hatch. Corey gave him a push up and then he was on the roof again. He was glad to be moving, but hell his chest hurt. When he stood crouched under the service chute, shining the little beam of torchlight up into the pitch, cold blackness, he could feel his heart thumping painfully against his ribs. He wished he had taken on more water, but too late now. The first rung of the ladder was high and it was hard to reach it. His foot made a clanging noise on the metal, which echoed up over his head, disappearing into nothingness. The torch was wedged into his front jeans pocket and as he swung up and left the tunnel below, Starsky decided to switch it off for a while. Plunged into total blackness he left it twenty seconds or so, giving his heart time to settle, getting his breathing back to a rhythm, and then he started upwards, feeling for the sides of the ladder with his hands, his feet moving up the center of the rungs. 

"What a stupid way to service a subway tunnel," he said out loud into the dark. His voice bounced off the walls. He raised his head to see if there was any sign of light above, but there was not even a pinprick. Did it go round a corner? Was that possible? "Well, at least you can't look down," he said. 

* * *

About ten minutes after Starsky left, there was a shuddering down in the train. Just a gentle one, but it went on for a long while, making something unknown out there creak, causing the sickly lights to flicker moodily. They went out for maybe ten seconds, enough time for Hutch to entreat calm, and then blinked unwillingly back on. The shuddering stopped. 

"Aftershocks," Hutch said, thinking of Victor, then of Starsky, hoping it had not been powerful enough to dislodge him. Doris was white, her eyes shiny. Corey had moved over to her and was rubbing her shoulder kindly. Boz just stared around, fierce in his fear. Farrado had his eyes closed. 

"OK there, Jack?" Hutch whispered across. 

Bavin caught his eye. He nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. Davey did a good job. 'Slong as I keep still I'm just fine." 

"Aftershocks are normal," Hutch reminded them all. "Not usually serious." He was talking to keep himself calm. 

"I still don't see what's to stop any of us trying to climb out of here," Farrado suddenly said. "Why should we sit down here and wait for the next shock to bring the roof down on us?" 

"We got no more lights, boss," Kerry murmured. He did not look up to climbing up a service chute, despite his physique. 

"Well I think it sucks," said Farrado. Hutch warily watched him shifting around, thinking about what he was going to do. "In fact, I think I'm going to go. I ain't taking orders from some two-bit cop who thinks he's Steve McQueen." 

He got himself to his feet, sending a wave of worry through the train. 

"Uh-uh," Hutch said quietly. "You're staying here, like the man said. Like we all are." 

"It's OK, mate," Corey said helpfully. "We'll get out of here, we just need a bit of help." 

"Shut the fuck up," Farrado replied to him. "Don't call me mate. And you!" He pointed at Hutch. "You can't stop me." 

"Well I can," Hutch said. He reached softly behind him and pulled out Farrado's magnum. "I got this. I got my own .45. Detective Bavin has a gun. You are going to sit right down again and keep quiet." He raised the gun up steadily. The tremor that had been afflicting him since he first came to was gone. Amazing drug, this adrenaline, he thought grimly. Farrado eyed the gun, and the pale-faced blond cop. Kerry had no piece now, but he could take the cop down if he moved fast enough. Farrado stuck his elbow lightly into the tall man's side. Hutch began to rise slowly to his feet, the gun still levelled, still unmoving on the target area. As he reached his full height Hutch's head seemed to clear slightly. He felt fully in control and he was transmitting that in the gimlet stare he was giving Farrado, the tense expectancy of his limbs. Farrado had seen cops in this stance before. Something about this one, bloodied as he was, convinced him that he was up against tough opposition. And Kerry felt limp and unresponsive at his side. Slowly, swallowing, Farrado lifted his hands and took a few steps back. Not taking his eyes from the blond cop's face he sat back on the seat, lowering his hands to his lap. OK. OK. He was down. But that cop was going to have to keep watching him, and sooner or later he was going to get weak again. 

"We got cuffs, too," Hutch said, reading his thoughts. "If you like, we can hook you up to one of the seats here." 

"You ain't gonna do that," Farrado said sourly. "Maybe your curly-headed pal shoulda thought of that before he left. He looked like he could do it. But you, Blondie... you know if there's a cave-in that we need to be able to move, fast. You know that. You ain't going to shackle me up." 

Hutch's chin tipped a little. So Starsky looked like Bad Cop today, did he? _Well, buster,_ he thought, _my head's killing me and I don't feel one bit like Good Cop, so you're just gonna have to risk it._ Out loud he said, "I will if I have to, Farrado." The man shrugged, but he slunk down in his seat and said and did no more. Hutch licked his dry lips and glanced over at Bavin. Jack gave him a quick nod of encouragement. 

"Alright, everyone, let's just sit tight. Starsky's not going to be back anytime soon so we might as well make the best of it. Everyone OK?" 

A murmur of assent from Corey and Boz. Doris's lip trembled at him. She had her fists closed around the plastic bags now. Hutch wondered if there was anything else useful in there. 

"You got food in there, Doris?" he asked hopefully. She shook her head sadly. 

"Only for my dogs," she said. 

"Should suit you then, Blondie," Farrado growled. Hutch flicked his eyes to him, nothing more. 

"Drinks?" 

"No, officer, there was just the water. I'm sorry." 

"Oh that's alright, Doris, I was just checking." He raised his brows at the others, just in case. 

"I could read you from my book," Corey offered, extracting a dog-eared paperback from inside his denim jacket. 

Boz patted his silver case. "I got a French horn in here," he said, a little dreamily. "I could play." 

Hutch broke a smile. "I'll let you know, guys. We may get to it yet." 

* * *

Starsky got slower much more quickly than he had figured. The chute was narrow enough for him to keep bumping his shoulders on the side and the air in it did not get any better. He had given up counting the rungs, and when he rested he had to hook his elbows over them to give him extra security. He could hear himself wheezing away in the dark. Hacking up the foul-tasting dust and phlegm did not seem to clear his tubes much, and all the time he climbed his chest and side got worse and worse. He felt the aftershock. It made the metal rungs vibrate, and more dust came down from above, cloaking Starsky's hair and shoulders. He did not dare loose one hand to wipe his face. 

"What kind of dumbass idea was this anyway, Starsky?" he demanded of himself. "Unless you reach the top soon you're gonna lose it... and boy is it a long way down, bumpy too." 

Once more he looked up into the dizzying black. Bet it's closed up top, he thought. You're gonna slap your head on a trapdoor soon. Wrong side of one. Hold on a moment. That was not so black up there. That was... Starsky craned his neck, blinked his gritty eyes fiercely to try and see more clearly. Yesssss. Some light. He was getting there. And now, as he moved up he could hear some other sounds, too. Muffled, but definitely different from the lonely clang of his feet on the rungs. All of a sudden the air did seem a little lighter, and in another few seconds he began to see the brickwork more clearly. With renewed strength he hauled himself up, arm over arm, until finally his head came over a rim and he could see a grey-tiled floor stretching away from him. Ground level. It felt good. Starsky crawled his way out and stood up, arching his back and stretching out his shoulders. He was on a short corridor. There was the sound of voices not so far away. As he walked along towards the ever-brightening light, he could hear sirens, too. What a great sound. He never had thought it was such a great sound before. But it was, it really was. Rounding a corner he found himself on a concourse. There were rescue people milling about. There was an arc light outside. A fire engine was visible in the distance, its light flashing. Cops. Firefighters. Sirens. Nirvana. 

He moved forward, sensing the atmosphere. It didn't feel good. It felt un-natural, like something weird had happened and tilted the world. There was a fire department guy coming towards him, eyes widening at the sight of the blackened, dust-covered figure. 

"Hey," said Starsky, patting his jeans pocket and drawing out his ID. 

"Holy Cow," said the firefighter. "Where'd you come from?" 

"A train," Starsky said. "Tunnel's collapsed. I got up a service chute." 

"Shit. There's a train right under here?" 

"Well, yeah. This is a metro subway line, right?" 

"All the elevators are out, the stairs are blocked, the escal--" 

"Yeah, it figures. Who's in charge here?" 

The firefighter gestured behind him and Starsky saw someone he knew, Mike Gallagher from the Fire Department at Central. Gallagher had seen him too and was working his way over. He looked stressed. 

"Starsky! Jesus... you hurt? What's going on?" 

"Mike. No, I'm fine. I just came up from down under -- got caught in a train. The tunnels are all collapsed, no way out except this damn chute thing." 

"How many you got down there?" 

"Two more cops, both injured, five civilians, all very shaken up." 

"We can get 'em all up this chute?" 

"Come and see it, Mike. You tell me. It's pretty tight in there. I don't think most of them will make it under their own steam. And we got after-shocks, right?" Starsky suddenly cast an eye out across the concourse, into the sky lit by orange neon. "Is it bad, Mike?" 

"Citywide we got buildings down, cars crushed... hell, we don't even know for sure but the reports coming in are really not good. It was a big one. Helluva big one." 

Starsky took them back over to the corridor and along to the open chute. He noticed now that there was a lid to it, lying open and he thanked his lucky stars. Gallagher shone his flashlight down it and whistled. "That's tight," he agreed. He looked up at the ceiling for a second. Then he said, "Ed, go and get Perez, get some water for Starsky and some oxygen." 

"What's our plan, Mike? The air down there is poor -- we gotta get them out real quick." 

"I hear you. Listen, Perez is a paramedic working with us. Take her down. We'll set up a winch. I think the only way is to get 'em up one by one. What are the injuries?" 

"Broken arm, head wound." 

"You think they can make it?" 

Starsky made a face. "They ain't got no choice, chief." 

Perez, the paramedic, turned up with a bottle of water and a small tank and face-mask. For a second, Starsky wondered if he could find any charm within himself for she was pretty, but she decided for him. 

"Here, take some puffs," she said, unsmiling. 

Obediently Starsky inhaled some of the oxygen, watching her over the rim of the mask. She was strapping a small pack to her back. 

"You got light down there?" Gallagher asked, taking the water bottle from Perez and handing it to the cop. 

"Emergency lighting, but it's liable to go out anytime." 

"OK, you're gonna need a helmet with a light. Are you up to this, Starsky?" He was looking closely at the Detective now. Starsky had poured most of the water over his face to dislodge some of the grime and get it out of his eyes and nostrils, and now his face was clearer it looked more than a little pasty. 

"I'm OK, Mike. I gotta go back down, I know where they are. And I promised." 

"Sure. Let's get the equipment. We'll set up and Perez has the radio. It's gonna be one careful lift at a time, but you may have a bit of climbing to do. These babies need steadying -- if you got a broken limb you're going to have to go up behind. Can you do that?" 

"I can do it," Starsky said. He smiled at Perez. "Name's Dave Starsky," he said. 

She looked as if she had little interest, but jerked her head up just slightly to show an acknowledgement. "Maria Perez," she said. 

Somehow it was much worse, much more difficult, going down than coming up, even with the helmet on that lit the chute all around him and showed the booted feet of Perez coming down above. It seemed to take forever, and was like going underwater the air was so thick and dense as they descended. At the bottom Starsky struggled for balance. Was it his imagination or was it even more airless down here now, teetering on the roof of this goddamned train? He flattened himself to one side, on his haunches, as Perez dropped down from the bottom rung. He held out an arm to her so she could get accustomed to the curvature of the uneven surface on which they were landed. She took it. 

"That was... what? Ten minutes down?" 

"Something like. And it'll be double that going up. Maybe more." 

They were both out of breath. Perez peered at the curly-headed cop, his face illuminated before her. The light from her helmet shone straight at his eyes and she thought how very striking they were, the colour of a lagoon in shadow. "Well, Maria," he said, "didja think you'd be spending New Year's Day underground with me?" 

"No," she said. "I thought I'd be spending it with my boyfriend." The smallest flicker of a smile lurked at her lips. "Let's go," she said. 

There was no singing or joke-telling going on when they got down to the carriage. Starsky panicked at the sound of silence when they were on the roof. He went to his knees and said, "Hey, I'm back!" before poking his head in the emergency hatch. They were all mostly in the same positions he had left them. As he lowered himself back in he noticed that Corey did not have the strength to help him this time, that Doris had her head bowed right down, and Hutch... shit, Hutch had his eyes closed. Starsky took hold of Perez' knees to help guide her down on to the floor. 

"Hutch," he said in an urgent voice. "You with us?" 

At first there was no response, and then Hutch dragged his eyes open and looked right at him. "You took your time," he said in a dry voice, and then, "Gee, Starsky, how'd you find time for a pick-up?" 

"Maria Perez," Starsky said. "Paramedic, not pick-up. Hello, everybody. Doris, speak to me... Corey, Boz? You pleased to see me, huh?" 

"What's happening?" Doris managed to croak out, lifting her head from her chest. 

Starsky went over and sank to his usual crouch before his partner. He reached out and made the touch, made it firm and reassuring. Hutch looked a little spaced-out but managed a small smile when he felt the warmth. "Good to see you, buddy," he whispered. 

"Hanging in there?" 

"Oh yes. We're all fine. Ready to go now." 

"I'll bet." Starsky cast a short look at Bavin, hunched over his bad arm, and then at Farrado and Kerry, the only ones who seemed to have changed position. "You been good, Louis? Huh?" 

Farrado scowled. "How are you going to get us out of here, hero? That's all I want to know." 

"Listen up, people," Starsky said. "As a good friend of mine, Mr Huggy Bear, would say, I'm the man with the plan. Fire Department are setting up a winch which is going to take us all up out of this hole. Up the service chute. One by one. Maria here is going to patch you all up good before the ride." He paused. "Could be worse," he said, striving to be as chirpy as before. 

"What's going on up there?" Boz wanted to know. "Do we have a city to go back to?" 

Starsky exhaled sharply as if blowing up a balloon. "Didn't have time to check it out," he said. "There's a lot of action, what can I tell you." 

"OK," said Farrado combatively. "So who goes first? Who decides?" 

"Louis, Louis, Louis," Starsky reproved. "I'm in charge. Didn't you get that? I decide who goes when. And you ain't first." He swung round to Perez, who had gone straight to Bavin and was looking at the arm. 

"Hey, who did this?" she said. 

"It was me," Starsky said. "Is it not good?" 

"It's a nice job, soldier -- at ease. Can you share out the air?" 

Starsky took the mask and little tank from her and did a round, starting with Doris and finishing with Hutch, who had his eyes shut again. He held the mask up to his friend's face, not liking his colour, not liking the pain lines around his eyes, not liking his limp posture. "Breathe it in, buddy, it'll help." Hutch opened his eyes and looked at him, then weakly pushed the mask away. 

"Tell me, Starsk," he said. "So who is going to go first?" 

"Well help me out here," Starsky replied. "But I think we go... Doris first, then Jack." He paused. "And then I want you out of here." 

"No, no, Stars... I'm feeling better, really. I'm gonna help marshall the troops. Your new friend here is going to be on winch duty, right?" 

"Right." 

"And we can't all sit up top and wait our turn, right?" 

"Right." 

"So, we need me in here and you leading the line. Right?" 

"I'm not sure, Hutch. You look rough." 

"Listen, I want to leave it as long as possible before I have to travel up any narrow chutes. You know what I mean?" 

Starsky sighed, and then used one of Hutch's lines. "What am I gonna do with you?" he wondered. "OK, you got it. Me and Thee last. Terrific." 

Hutch grinned at him. He lifted a hand and patted Starsky's cheek three times. "Go and lead the line, buddy." 

Perez was still ministering. Starsky stopped for some water and got a good look at her. She was the same height as him, muscular, olive-skinned, with thick black corkscrews of hair and bright brown eyes. She glanced up when she felt his gaze and glared. 

"We should get moving," Starsky said. "Doris, you're up first." As she hauled herself to her feet, he tutted. "You'll have to leave your bags, sweetheart." 

"But my dogs..." she said. "What will they have to eat?" 

"Listen," Starsky said, "If we get out of here I'll personally buy them a steak dinner. C'mon, it's showtime." Doris cast a look up at the emergency hatch and quailed. 

"Easy, Doris," Hutch said. "You'll be fine." 

"Hey, I've been jumping in and out of it all night, it's a piece of cake," Starsky added. 

Boz and Corey gathered underneath to lend a hand. Starsky went up first. He crouched on the roof of the train listening to the heaving sounds beneath, waiting for Doris's head to appear. Looking along the dark tunnel he realised that this whole operation was going to be far from easy. 

The winch was down when they finally got to the chute, dangling some ten foot above them. Perez touched on her RT. 

"Mike? You reading me?" 

"I hear you. You ready to go?" 

"Ready. We need a little more slack." There was a clinking sound as the ropes and brace jerked a little further down the chute towards them. 

"OK, Starsky. One of us will have to go up behind for a ways, to steady it." 

Starsky looked at her through the weird light. He was grinning. "Listen, honey, in a past life I used to be a chimney sweep." 

"That's fine, Dick van Dyke, but we'll take it in turns." 

Starsky was secretly glad about that. When he got down again after seeing Doris moving up into the light above him he was only fit for grabbing the oxygen mask off Perez and plunging his face into it. And now they had Bavin. 

"I gotta go again, Maria," he said, "he's gonna be a dead weight." 

"Forget it," she said crisply. "You're not going to make it unless you ease up, Detective." 

"Says who?" 

"I'm a paramedic, dummy. I can tell you're hurt, just hiding it." 

"Wounded last year," Bavin managed to get out from his place crouched uncomfortably by Starsky's feet in the dark. "Nearly died. Damaged goods." 

Perez's eyes gleamed at Starsky through the gloom. He could not tell if it was professional interest, sympathy, or what. 

"Damaged goods or not," she said to Bavin crisply, "He's got you out of a hole." 

Bavin mumbled to himself. He had been talking as if feverish most of the way since the combined effort of Boz, Corey, Starsky and Hutch had somehow got him out of the escape hatch. It took some time to fix him up ready for the lift. Halfway up the chute Perez could tell he had become unconscious. There were more paramedics waiting up top. She lifted her head over the rim, searching for a friendly face. It seemed that there was more running about going on than before. She so much did not want to go back down again, but somehow the eyes like lagoons kept coming back to her. 

The guy Boz came up next, spitting mad that he had had to leave his french horn case behind. He had just started to process the fact of leaving his fellow musician, dead, behind him down there. Hutch, who felt he had done a lot of soothing over the last few hours, kept up his soothing. Corey, when he got to the foot of the service chute, said he wanted to climb, but Perez overruled him. She could tell that he, like all of them, was much weaker than he realised due to the poor air and the cumulative effects of shock and dehydration. 

Hutch prepped Farrado to go next. "Whatever it was, Louis," he said, holding out an arm to assist him on to the makeshift step of Kerry's interlocked hands, "you got away with it -- for now. But now we know you're back, we'll be looking out for you." 

"Yeah, well maybe I'll be looking out for you too, Blondie. Enjoy your stay down here. Hope it's not too long." 

Then just Hutch and Kerry were left, staring at one another in the awkward light. The emergency system hummed unconvincingly, struggling to keep power. A little shake went along the floor and up through Hutch's knees. Kerry clasped at his collar, panicking slightly. Hutch just kept staring. He did not trust the guy one bit, and somehow he had to get the both of them out of the hatch. 

"Sit down, Kerry," he eventually said. "Preserve your energy." 

It seemed hours later when Perez was peering down at the two of them. The light had dimmed even more if it was possible and her flashlight made a welcome sweep as it came through the hatch. 

"OK, guys," she said. "It's time. You gonna make it, Detective?" 

Hutch pursed his lips. "Don't you worry about me," he said. 

It was good to finally get out of the train, even though he was alarmed at the lack of room on the roof and the obstacle course of debris they had to manoeuvre around. Jeez, and Starsk did this with only a pencil light, he thought. Way to go, buddy. At the bottom of the chute, Starsky was waiting. His face was streaked with dirt and grit, scratched now and sweaty, his hair was dusty and Hutch could hear his wheezy breathing as they came along. 

"Welcome to the fun palace," Starsky said. "How you doing?" 

Hutch's legs were like jelly after the half-crouch, half-crawl they had done along the roof. "As good as you," he replied. "Did Farrado get up OK?" 

"He squealed," Starsky said, "and he complained, but he made it. I handed him over to the medics myself. Wished it had been a cop, though." 

"You've been up again?" 

"Oh a few times," Starsky said wearily. "It feels like a second home to me now." 

"It looks narrow," Hutch said, looking up. 

"You'll be fine," Starsky said. He was automatically reaching up for the brace, to help Perez get Kerry settled in it. They all felt another shudder, vibrating the walls around them, as Kerry's feet swung up away from them into the dark. Starsky made to haul himself on to the ladder, but Perez stopped him. 

"My turn," she said. "Here, have the oxygen. Stay down here quiet." She flashed what was almost a smile on the pair of them. "See you soon." 

They sat where they were, listening to the bumping sounds of the winch going up and Perez's boots clopping slowly on the rungs. Then it all went quiet. They were lit by the beam on the helmet that Starsky had taken off and laid next to them. 

"You want a puff?" Starsky said, holding the mask and tank out. 

"No, I gave up," Hutch replied. A small smile passed between them, and then the rumbling started. 

The noise came first. Starsky's eyes flicked upwards, then from side to side, and he crawled on to his feet. They felt the roof begin to shake underneath them. Some debris dropped down right by Hutch's shoulder. Their eyes met and then there was a huge banging sound. Starsky felt himself losing his footing. He saw Hutch sliding too, helplessly, and he reached out a hand to grab at him. Hutch was reaching too. Somehow he caught hold of a pinch of Starsky's sleeve. It felt as if the train was upending. The brickwork above them was coming down. Hutch kept his fingers clamped on to Starsky's shirt as he slid. They were being tipped down the side of the train. Something hit him on the back of his neck. Starsky's arm was tugged away. A rushing sound filled Hutch's ears. He was not sure what he was falling on to. Somehow he was bowled down past the buckled rails and underneath them. As he fell, feeling earth beneath him, he instinctively gathered his hands and elbows over his head. He ended up rolling, coiled up tightly, trying to get away from falling concrete, trying to get under the train. He lay face down with his hands over his head while the banging and shaking went on. Several pieces of wall came down on his legs, but he knew nothing was breaking. As the banging receded, there was the rushing sound of air and dust settling. 

Hutch was amazed he could move. He uncoiled, dislodging bricks and chunks of stone. He was able to sit up, but he realised the underside of the train was right above his head. It was pitch black. The panic set in again, coursing through him, sending bright white light pulsing behind his eyeballs. All the feeling seeped out of his fingertips. He thought he had stopped breathing. 

"Hutch? Hutch? You here?" coughed a voice, thick with phlegm, alongside him somewhere. 

"Starsk?" Hutch realised his own voice was a squeak of fear. He heard shuffling in the black and he reached out both his hands. There was a clunking noise. 

"Shit! Goddamn, shit and fu..." 

"S-s-tars-s-k?" 

"Hit my head. How d'ya like that?" 

The voice was nearer now and Hutch pressed his hands further out into the darkness. Something warm met his fingers. Hutch clasped on to it. 

"Hey, buddy," said the voice, right by him, "it's OK, I'm here." He felt Starsky falling, rather than sitting, down next to him and the comforting pressure of his shoulder pressing into his own. Starsky's hand patted his leg in the choking black. Hutch bit down hard on the knuckle of his left hand, moisture squeezing out between his shut eyelids. When he inhaled it sounded wild and out of control. Again the pat, then Starsky speaking calmly. 

"Take it easy there, partner. Howsabout a few easy breaths, you and me both, huh? Easy in... come on, Hutch, do it for me, willya? OK... easy in... and easy out... again... listen, I'm not gettin' off your case until you do it. With me, ya big blond blintz... easy in... and easy out... again..." The voice carried on in the same vein for a while, always calm, almost singsong. Eventually, even though it seemed impossible at first, Hutch gave in to it and began to follow along. After a few minutes Starsky was silent and there was just the sound of the two of them breathing softly and steadily next to one another. 

When Starsky was confident his partner was getting back on track, and leaving one hand in contact, he shifted around so he could get his other one in his back jeans pocket. Then, all of a sudden, out of the black, a little light gleamed. Hutch nearly lost his breathing pattern again. He could suddenly see Starsky's legs, his own, the ground on which they were sitting, and as Starsky moved the miraculous little beam upwards, he saw his own hands, and then his partner's face, almost smiling, but not quite. 

"Bavin's torch!" Starsky said triumphantly. 

Hutch tried to speak but hiccupped instead. Starsky smiled properly then. He swung the torch around to try and take in their surroundings. They were more or less under the train. All around them fallen masonry and metal. Meticulously Starsky scoured with the light but there seemed no hole, no opening, no way out. 

"Trapped," Hutch said. 

Starsky glanced at him. "Looks like it. Can I get up and have a proper look-see? You gonna be OK?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"OK, here I go." 

Hutch watched himself fade to black once again as Starsky tentatively rose to his feet taking the light with him. He watched the light moving slowly around on the end of Starsky's arm, swinging high, sinking low, moving gently but never far away. The sarcophagus they had found themselves in was small, it appeared. Eventually Starsky came back down, slumping next to him again dejectedly. 

"We run out of luck, huh?" said Hutch. 

"Seems like it." 

A small silence. 

"So, what are we gonna do?" 

"Got no choice, buddy. We gotta wait for the cavalry." 

"They can find us, right?" 

"Sure they can find us." 

Another silence, then Hutch sighed. "It's gonna be a long wait." 

"Mmmm. You know, Hutch..." 

"What?" 

"We maybe oughta save the light. I think I'm gonna switch it off for now. You OK with that?" 

"Do it." 

A little click and they were plunged back into total darkness. Starsky listened for Hutch's breathing to go awol again but he seemed to be keeping it under control. That's my Hutch, he thought. He put out his hand and groped about. Hutch gave a little cough when he felt Starsky make contact with his forearm. He let out a long, slow breath. The dry, warm fingers remained resting there, speaking without words. Hutch closed his eyes so he would not have to look at the black. His head was throbbing again like a generator, his mouth felt dry and twitchy like he was about to throw up. But he tried to push it away, concentrating instead on listening to the breath sounds next to him. They were quite soft, but laboured, going in a little harsh and coming down a little short. After a while he said, 

"Tell me how you're doing, Starsk." 

"Wish I hadn't dropped that tank," Starsky said. 

"Is it really the air?" 

"Well..." 

"Starsk?" 

"I think I maybe cracked something when it first hit." 

"And you've been going up and down that chute like a monkey on speed? Are you crazy?" 

"What else could I do, Hutch?" 

They gave in to the quiet again, Hutch feeling Starsky shifting a little, pressing in close, clearing his throat. He sounded like an asthmatic. Hutch, as he always did, began doing mental calculations, partly because he wanted some information, partly to divert his mind from the situation. After a bit he poked Starsky, not in the ribs, but more around his hip bone. 

"Starsky... " 

"Here." 

"I'm an optimistic kind of a guy, right?" 

"Well..." 

"Oh come on... don't I always think... the Raiders will win?" 

"That's ignorance... not optimism." A longish pause. "What... you thinking?" 

"If the shute blocked... they hafta come... through the tunnel now... s'gonna be long... the air..." 

"Yeah, I figured." Long, long pause. "We may not make it... that's... terrific... huh?..." Starsky closed his fingers tighter around the arm, punctuating the fact of his presence with a steady pressure. Of all the ways he could think of that Hutch would hate to go it would have to be trapped in the dark in a tiny space underground. He wasn't too keen on it himself. He desperately wanted to keep talking to his partner because he was afraid, with the head injury and the effect of his personal demons terrorizing him, that Hutch would drift away in the blackness. But it was getting hard now. So he just kept hold of his arm, flexing and tightening his fingers every so often. After a while he felt a slight trembling through the muscles of the arm. He realised Hutch was shaking. 

"C-cold?" he asked. 

"Bit," came the reply. "You?" 

"N...nah. Just hungry." 

Almost a laugh. "You... deserve a good d..dinner, Starsk." 

"Huh?" 

"You did real g..good today... 'm proud..." 

The fingers lessened their hold, and just gave a stroke of acknowledgement. The shaking carried on. "Hutch?" 

"Yeah, Starsk." 

"I'm here. I've got you." 

"I know, Starsk... got you too." Hutch strained his ears through the dark to hear his partner's breaths. Still raspy, but getting fainter. "Hey... " 

"Mmmm?" 

"P...Perez." 

"What 'bout her?" 

Hutch nudged him again. "She liked ya." 

There was a silence. "Y'reckon?" 

"Sure of it, buddy." 

They rode the thought for a while, Hutch glad for his partner, Starsky wordlessly thanking him for saying it. 

"But... Hutch?" 

"Yeah, Starsk." 

"She... she got a boyfriend." 

"No contest, buddy, no... contest." 

"'Sept... he's up there... 'm down here." 

"Well... you can't have ev...rything." 

"Don't go... sleep, Hutch." 

A grunt in reply. After a bit, Starsky picked up the light again and pressed the switch. He held it up towards Hutch's face. Hutch had been leaning his head back against the hard piece of wall behind him, but he forced his clamouring head up and his eyes open to look at his partner. 

"Hey, buddy," he said, "good to see you." 

"How do I look?" asked Starsky with a slight snigger. 

The little light glimmered fretfully. They could see it dying before them. Starsky locked his eyes on to his partner's. Hutch gave a little shrug. "'S'OK," he said faintly. He saw Starsky nod. The light faded out between them. Hutch heard Starsky clicking at the switch but now nothing happened. 

"Don't go... sleep, Hutch," Starsky said urgently. "'M going to keep... pinching... you." 

"'M'already black... blue," Hutch responded. He gave in to the shivers again. Starsky coughed uncomfortably. 

Things began to come and go for Hutch then. For a bit he was aware of where he was, the warm pressure of the form beside him, then he seemed to drift, seeing strange lights and hearing odd noises that he knew were not really there. Several times he came to with a shudder, cold all over, thinking that Starsky had gone. Far, far away he sometimes heard a guttural sound, full of pain. Then when everything went totally silent he was filled with panic, reaching out in the dark, trying to gasp out a sentence. A hand caught hold of his fingers but he heard no voice. It was hard to sit up. Now when he came to full awareness he felt like he was slipping down the wall. Then the side of his head was resting on something warm. A muffled thump seemed to be inside his head, and then he realised it was a heartbeat, Starsky's heartbeat. No longer sure whether his eyes were open or closed he just concentrated on the sound of the heartbeat. He wondered if he had really heard a soft voice say "Got you, Hutch, got you," or whether it was just his imagination. It was all so quiet. There was no-one coming. 

* * *

"Tell me what's happening," Captain Dobey said. He was standing on the concourse in a big BCPD jacket, flung on over his casual holiday wear. Mike Gallagher had been pacing up and down a few metres away, listening to his RT. Now he came over. 

"They've got to West Point," he said. "The tunnel is clear eastbound, they're through the train and think they've got about adjacent to where the westbound train was." He rubbed his chin. "How tough are your boys, Harold? Even if we can break through to get some air to them it's going to be hours before we get them out." 

"It's the day after New Year's, Mike," said Dobey. "They were up all night at the damn Division party. Starsky's lucky to still be on force given the injuries he sustained last year... Hutchinson's a claustrophobic... I don't know. If they're still together then maybe they can hang on..." 

* * *

Hutch lifted his head, causing white-hot barbs of light to flash in front of his eyeballs. Something drifted across his face. A tiny flurry of cool air. He sucked at it. It was real. When the light flashes subsided everything sank back into the darkness again. He lowered his head slowly, back to the safe pillow he had lain on for... who knew how long now. But the little world of soft pumping had changed. Hutch could feel nothing but the warm solidity of Starsky's ribcage under his ear. There was no accompanying rhythm, nothing steady, nothing staccato, just nothing. 

Hutch pulled his head up again. His tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth, his nostrils and airways felt clogged with dust. Again there was a slight movement of air and he opened his mouth and tugged it in. Clear your head, listen again, he thought. He dropped his head, pushing it in closer. 

"No, no, no," his cracked voice said out loud. "No, c'mon... you got me here, Starsk... stay with me, for Pete's sake... c'mon... where are you?" 

As if in answer there was a sudden low clunking noise coming from way down by his feet. Hutch tried to sit up again. A distinct breeze blew right through his hair. He felt Starsky's hand sliding limply off his leg. Before the world went away he got the clear impression that he was moving along the ground. 

* * *

Rolling along. Clunking wheels, little bumps. Light. Flashing light. Red, flashing light. A warm pressure on his hand. Thank God. Starsky's still there. 

"Stars?" 

"You're OK, son." A familiar voice, but not the one he wanted. "They got you out." 

Without being able to open his eyes, fearful of the light he could see through his lids, Hutch knew it was Dobey. Then another voice, coming at him from the other side. 

"We all made it up, Detective Hutchinson." He recognized Maria Perez. "Your friend Jack's fine -- he's waiting at the hospital." 

_Jack? Jack Bavin? Bavin's not my partner. I don't want to know about Jack._ But all he could do was groan. _Where's Starsky? What have you done with him?_

Dobey was patting him, murmuring. The rolling had slowed down. Hutch could hear whispered voices, sounds coming through a radio. 

"It's OK, Ken." Dobey again. "There's a lot of mess to get through -- we're nearly there." 

_Why can't I speak? Why won't they tell me where he is?_

White lights now, in little lines, still trundling along. Keep your eyes shut, Hutch told himself. Hushed voices all around. 

"When should we tell him?" 

"Wait for a while, until he's come out of it." 

"I'll tell him." That was Dobey again. "I should be the one." 

Hutch pushed it away. He gave into the quiet, let himself drift away. He did not want them to tell him now. 

* * *

"Hutch, will you wake up? You've been asleep long enough." _No, was it Monday morning already?_ "Come on now. We've got to talk. Open your eyes." 

"Take it easy." That was Dobey. _Who was the other one?_

"Hey, I think he's about with us. You there, Hutch?" 

Hutch pulled his protesting eyelids apart at last. Everything was a blur, clearing as he blinked. Before him was a fuzzy sillhouette shifting into recognisable shape. There was someone smiling at him, a face flooded with relief and affection. 

"You didn't make it," Hutch got out accusingly. 

Starsky looked down at himself. "Sure I did," he said. "Once they got half the transit system outa my lungs... You're the one with the skull fracture, buddy." He grinned. "Luckily your brains are still inside." 

"So," Hutch whispered, "What's the problem?" 

Dobey and Starsky looked at one another. "Well," Dobey said, "I'm afraid Venice Place took a bit of a hit, Hutchinson. You may have to move out for a while." 

"That's it? That's all?" 

"We thought you'd be really bummed out," Starsky said. 

"No," Hutch told him, letting his eyes drift shut again. "No, Starsk... actually I'm not." 

**_THE END_ **


End file.
